Something's dead and spilled on my childhood streetJust out past the garden wallI could smell it cooking on the July breezeThat lifted all those Sunday dressesI thought that I had seen everythingUnder this white-knuckled fist of moonBut I spoke too soon...I need you here, man I ain't even kiddin'Girl I need you hereYou left the bed covered in blood and sunshineMostly sunshineI thought that I had seen everythingUnder this white-knuckled fist of moonBut I spoke too soon...